Every Time We Meet
by ErosandPsyche
Summary: Hermione Granger is supposed to be on vacation. Dean Winchester doesn't know the meaning of it. Two lives intersect five times. COMPLETE!
1. First Meet

**First Time**

"I'm supposed to be on vacation," Hermione mumbled to herself for the hundredth time as she walked down the dusty, cobweb-filled, _creaky_ hall.

The number might have been an exaggeration, but the sentiment was very real. She _was_ on vacation, and creeping about this mad mansion was _not_ a part of those plans. New Mexico had been delightful until she heard about the strange happenings in a high school with students claiming to see visions of maggots and decapitated hands, powerful screams and the occasional ghost.

It could have been mass hysteria, but each student was the only one to see it each time. Plus, Harry did ask if she could check it out while she was there.

Luckily she had brought her Muggle-glamour badge which got her past the school officials to interview the students. She had been lucky they allowed it at all, saying this was the third time the FBI came by and where was her partner?

Out of the eight students, only two came forth with additional information about their shared history. Each was sure it was the ghost of Jenny Graves who recently died at a house party. Not that, they were quick to say with fearful eyes and sharp breaths, it was their fault. She fell wrong off the diving board and bashed her head on the cement while drinking.

Afterward her mother had been at the school every day for a week, demanding any student at the party be arrested for manslaughter.

Not bad for a lead. Bad for a vacation though. Hermione couldn't help but feel alarmed given how very scared the students were. It was easy to brush off a haunting or frightening illusions, but these were clearly escalating. One male, a popular boy, was pushed down the stairs and ended up in the hospital while she was in town.

When she arrived to the remains of poor Jennifer Graves, it looked as if they had been torched. Harry hadn't said he was sending anyone else, so she thought it must have been the American Ministry.

Why was she still here? The visions continued and the boy in the hospital died from a 'suicide' attempt that had the feel of Dark Arts around it. That was the first time she met Agent Rodgers and Kirke who were also FBI, unfortunately.

"Paul and Simon?" she said when they introduced themselves, thinking they wouldn't understand the reference.

The shorter man, with freckles and light green eyes, quirked a grin before looking serious again. "Dean and Sam, actually, but you can call us Agent. We heard you asking the nurse questions, why?"

Never one to bat an eye at a bluff, she held out her Auror's badge. "MI6, actually."

He eyed the badge while cocking his head. He wore an expression of consideration with one eyebrow raised. "What, like James Bond?"

The taller one nudged Dean or Sam, giving him quite the look before smiling at her. "What my partner here is trying to say is that we can both investigate. Do you have any information you'd like to share?"

"I'll have a copy sent over to you by my partner. Where are you staying?" She held the eye of the taller one, he seemed to be the partner that likely kept things on track. Hermione knew the feeling well.

"We'll be at the Super 8, just out of town. Here's our number." He handed her a small blank card with a number scrawled on the back.

"Thank you. I'll be in touch." She tossed the card in a bin as soon as she left them, intent on scheduling additional interviews as soon as possible. They went well. She found out that Jenny had snuck out several times with friends to a huge empty house in San Ignacio, a nearby town.

She discovered one umentioned fact; it was a bloody ghost town. Not all the buildings were intact, but the largest whole house within the general vicinity certainly was, as well as creepy.

Hermione had already discovered fresh marks of blood smeared in ritual markings on the bottom floor. Wishing she had the extra amenities on hand that came with being in full Auror regalia, such as Dust Repellent and an extra holster for her second wand, she crept quietly through the house. She cast the charm to repel dust, but it wasn't nearly so effective as the spell weaved into the making of the robe.

A loud sneeze alerted her to a third presence; the woman chanting on the bedroom she was heading towards certainly didn't make the muffled masculine sound. Hermione immediately stepped inside a different open room and stopped breathing as the chanting halted.

Flattening against the wall, she pressed her cheek against the rough wood door as purposeful footsteps moved past her spot.

Before she could turn around the door to follow, she heard a thump and a crack followed by "Sammy!" and she darted down the hall with wand in hand.

The woman looked almost ordinary, having the same blonde hair and sallow skin as the school picture of Jenny Graves, but at least twenty years older. _Cheryl Graves_ , long-time widow and mother to Jenny. And apparent witch, the made-not-born sort.

Cheryl looked crazed as she shook her head side to side and thrust out one hand again toward the only Agent standing.

It was simple work to Stun her from behind and silently send magical ropes to bind her.

The taller Agent was on the ground unconscious but breathing, and the other, Dean she surmised, was crouched low and staring at her with wide eyes and his mouth still open as if frozen in pre-shout.

Poor Muggles, too good at their job.

Hermione hated to do it, but she had no choice. Lifting her wand, she simply said " _Obliviate_."

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

So it's not a one-shot, but it's no epic either! There will be five _Meets_ , short and sweet and pithy.

I was pretty down this week so I wrote it one sad night! Cause we all know pets don't stay in our lives forever, but sometimes it is cut very short and tragically. T.T Anywho, hope you all enjoy this though, as writing rather helped me through a hard night. Will post each a day :)

HMJ


	2. Second Meet

**Second Time**

Dean rotated his neck, letting it pop several times before relaxing on the cheap motel bed. It felt like Heaven. Not real heaven, but the kind that came from being on a hunt. He was eager to get back out there, stab something.

The case itself was something to be excited about, two women within a five mile radius ended up dead, partially drained of blood and circular marks on the back of their neck. Authorities suspected a new strain of vampire bats, even the marks looked like a friggin' lamprey latched onto their necks from nowhere near water.

Sam had passed him the articles three days ago.

"Changeling?" he asked then.

"Yep."

On the downside, that meant there was a basement full of children somewhere in the town of Carrington in Foster County. An ironic name Dean had joked to Sam, earning himself an epic bitchface and a very silent car ride until they stopped for food.

On the upside there hadn't been any deaths since they arrived, thanks to one Dean Winchester. He janked one kid changeling before it could kill hot mom Vanessa. Those suckers really did tend to gravitate toward the most attractive mothers in town. Unfortunately he hadn't got the chance to stab it, but he had set it on fire with Sammy's new little toy.

Still looking for the momma bastard, but they had several leads on which people were acting out of character.

This time he wasn't as surprised by the Children of the Corn stare, it made it easier to figure out which children weren't all there.

On the downside, Sam and he ran into a spot of trouble with outside authorities.

After interviewing hot mom Cheryl with her thousand-yard-stare 'kid' Rachel, they ran into a woman coming up the steps. She had on a muted red jacket and matching skirt with a white blouse, nice legs, and kinda poofy hair the color of chocolate and caramel.

That was unusually poetic of him. Oh, right.

"Sammy, I'm hungry!" he called over his shoulder. "Did you grab any snacks?"

Sam tossed him a package of corn nuts and chocolate donuts from their food run and returned to his research on their targeted houses.

"So we'll hit the Worthington house tonight?" he asked around one chocolatey bite.

"Yeah, we'll head out at sundown."

Dean flipped through the channels. Oh right, the English chick outside of the house. She had stopped and stared at them, looking over their suits with a suspicious air. Dean had introduced them as Agent Shaw and Blades while she squinted as if suspecting trickery.

She didn't get the look some did if they were familiar with the name coupling, so he brushed it off as some sort of international rivalry.

In fact she had been pretty stuck up during their whole conversation, and when Dean climbed in the car he asked, "Do you think it was my James Bond joke?"

Sam had rolled his eyes.

Now they were creeping around a lawn in the middle of the night, hoping to find a woman in a cage in the two-story house's basement. Not a normal want all be told, but Dean figured if he couldn't have a normal life, he could save people who had it.

Sam climbed through the window first, clutching a handheld device that would spit out three feet of fire. This time they were prepared for the creepy bastards. And once the mom changeling was taken care of, all those women would be safe. Hopefully one of them would be as appreciative as last time.

The door was wide open at the top of the stairs as they broke into the basement.

Sam stood guard while Dean released a dirty, trembling soccer mom from the steel cage, much more sturdy than the last changeling had. It had taken precious minutes to pick the lock. Just as he popped it open and helped her stand they heard a small clatter.

Both looked at the bottom of the last step where a carved stick lie innocently. Before either could move, a woman burst through the doorway and practically flew down the stairs she was running so fast.

Sam raised the device, but held off when the Bond lady came into view and cursing up a storm. At least he thought it was cussing.

"Bugger shite hole arse!"

A clean, well dressed replica of the soccer mom was rushing after her with prejudice.

Dean moved the real mom against the wall for support and started forward when the strangest thing happened.

The English woman grabbed the stick from the floor and turned to point it at the changeling in one easy motion. "Incendio!" she hissed.

Changeling burst into flame and disintegrated as it went down the last few steps, fully disappearing into nothing by the time reaching her feet.

Sam stared with an open mouth, looking at his device and back at her. Dean was just as taken back. See, his joke about Bond was pretty accurate if she had fire technology that advanced.

"Oh dear." Her mouth pursed as she looked them over, an apology rising in her expressive brown eyes. "You two are very good at...whatever it is you do." Then she held that stick with the tip pointed at Sam.

Dean shouted and ran toward her, sure he was about to see Sammy burst into flame.

Sam did good, he shot his own fire at her and lit up the wooden railing as well as a pile of old newspapers on the floor next to the staircase.

The single word she spoke didn't even make sense.

"Obliviate."

The simple latin phrases and stick - wand, talisman - finally clicked for him. _Witch_! He friggin' hated friggin' witches.

No screaming from behind him, but Dean couldn't make sure Sam was all right just then. He was already several feet away from her. She had a bag clipped to her waist, a tiny beaded purse that didn't exactly look like a hex bag. Still, he grabbed it as he barreled into her and flung it in the paper-lit flames.

"Oblivi-oh!" They both went down and he landed on a whole lot of curves and hair in his face. Something hard jabbed him in the throat and her voice was quick and forceful this time. "Obliviate!"

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

Fun! At least, I'm having it :D I dunno why I had the plunny but enjoy, and drop a line if you're so inclined :D

HMJ


	3. Third Meet

**Third Time**

"He tried to burn my bag, Harry."

Harry sighed deeply and ran his fingers through his hair. "Don't you have an Anti-Flame charm on it?"

She opened her mouth to speak, then compressed her lips tightly. "That's not the point. I cannot figure out why I've seen them twice so far, using different names each time. I did some research and I swear those are names from old bands."

Her oldest and best friend slid a file across his desk at her, smiling apologetically. "I understand. Now I wouldn't ask again, but this concerns your favorite pet project."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him crossly.

"I didn't mean it like that," he said hastily.

A tiny town in the middle of Ohio called The Plains was her destination, though she stopped in Athens on the way. Not the one she truly wanted to visit, but it did have delicious was holding onto a bag of takeout. Grilled lamb kabobs and Samak bi Tahini and that had to be good enough for her.

Considering she only had a basic location to go off, she figured this would take a couple of days. That evening she ate her food in a tiny motel with no cameras and planned out her itinerary. At first the sightings in _Wolf_ Plains by teenagers seemed like a joke, but it did only happen on the full moon. So here she was, founder of Werewolf Options and Legal Foundation, taking on the assignment because their American branch was overwhelmed.

It was just past sunset when she made a stop at a junky automobile lot and _borrowed_ a car for the night. Nothing conspicuous, a black 1989 Audi 100 that she had to silence as it choked on the first block.

She thought of learning how to drive with Harry and Ron on the way to the site, tapping her fingers to the scratchy radio beat.

She set perimeter charms after parking around her car and the ground she covered on foot. Her wand would buzz if anyone breached the invisible line of spells, it was standard procedure even if an active tourist spot could drive an Auror mad.

 _Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzz…_

Puzzled, she looked at her wand as if it weren't vibrating in her hand. She was barely out of sight of her car...oh! She Disillusioned herself and Apparated back to the borrowed vehicle, hoping to not see any bobbies.

"Look Sammy, it's like a mini-Impala. But ugly." Fake Agent Dean smacked the hood with the flat of his palm.

Hermione scowled.

She kept running into them in shorter and shorter intervals. Raising her wand at the perimeter of the grounds, she set up a hasty Muggle-Repelling charm. It wasn't meant to be set up so quickly, and she bit her lip as they crossed the street.

The tall one, Sam, he slowed as he neared the sidewalk. "Dean, did we forget the gun with the silver bullets?"

"Are you kiddin' me?"

Hermione slapped both hands on her mouth to stifle a gasp. Werewolf hunters! They had to be, what sort of Muggles hunted werewolves, or even believed in them? The steely Auror in her whispered that three covered more ground than one. She could protect the werewolf if it was spotted.

Sending a quick tracking spell on each, she deconstructed the other spell.

Sam shook his head. "No, I have it. I was so sure for a moment that…"

"Yeah yeah, come on. We've got a monster to kill."

Hermione resisted the urge to glare at their backs longer, before disappearing.

The second night was when a howl broke the air, sad and lonely and crazed. Hermione broke into a run, branches slapping her thick trousers and scraping against the hair tied up tightly in a bun. Activating the Tracking charm let her know they were to the east, the opposite direction of the howl. That was good, she didn't want anyone to get hurt.

The problem with werewolves is much like Giants, they had resistance to simple spells. It wouldn't be the first wild one she had tracked, but it had been a while since she was running through the woods and it showed.

A soft green blur moved quickly behind her, catching up rapidly. She pushed harder, but soon the crash and crunch of large feet feet breaking twigs and dead leaves was nearly as loud in her ears as her own. She looked to the left.

They saw her too. Confusion and disbelief showed on their faces at a lone female running in the same direction, but she had to focus as she left the wooded area and stumbled out into the clearing.

"SHIT!" A hoarse shout sounded from her side as they all stopped.

The werewolf was skinny and tall, enraged as it tried brushing something off it's snout. Must have tried eating something with defenses, like a porcupine or a weasel that left deep scratches.

Both raised their guns and she yelled, "Don't shoot!"

It did make them pause, though not lower their guns. "Whoever it is to you, it's dangerous now!"

She raised her wand but two shots fired and even though she made the guns fly to the ground, but it was too late. The creature had jerked twice and fell to the ground and it wasn't moving. No, no no no. She ran to the cre-the person, horrified as the fur receded back and there lay a female no older than a teenager.

Moaning softly, she brushed the blonde hair back, still baby fine in the girl's youth. The soft sound of footsteps made her shoot a horrified look up. "You…"

"I'm sorry about your friend." Sam did look sad for her, expression pulled into regretful but resigned lines.

"Why didn't you let me just take care of her?" She choked, despite knowing these were Muggles and wouldn't understand. This was a person she had came out to save. And failed.

"There's no cure." Dean had the gruffer voice, no sign of remorse on his face. "She's a killer."

"You're a killer!" Hermione snapped angrily, one hand still on the limp arm. "I could have helped her! There are...there are potions now." She looked back at the girl, shaking her head slowly.

"Potions? You a witch?"

Licking her lips, she rose her eyes to see a great big barrel aimed straight at her. Her breath caught in her throat. This had never happened before. Staring at a threatening wand tip wasn't even so terrifying, as it turned out.

"Dean, she said she was trying to help the girl."

"Yeah, for what? Got some potions that call for werewolf fur or teeth? Come, you know their kind. Disgusting, inhuman…"

Heat flooded through her, ending in a blaze stamped along her cheeks. She had never met the Dursley's, the only Muggles who knew of her kind and hated them. It felt bad enough to be told she was a filthy Muggleborn, and that old wound burned as this Muggle told her she was inhuman because she was a witch.

Her fingers wrapped tightly around the wand, and-

"Drop it, Brit." Dean's finger tightened on the trigger, watching carefully as she let her wand drop. He kept the gun trained on her as he crooked a finger. "Kick it here."

She tried, but the grass hampered her first try. The second time it rolled closer to his feet. She could just Accio it back once he lowered his-

Dean brought his foot down sharply on it.

 _CRACK._

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

Oh dear o.O Hope you're still enjoying! :D Drop me a line, nothing is better than that! Next bit tomorrow ^.^.^.^.^.^ This five-shot did cheer me up when I was low, hope it does the same for someone else!

HMJ


	4. Fourth Meet

**Fourth Meet**

"Sammy, something is fucked up." Dean tossed his dirty laundry out of the bag and threw it in a dingy washer. The laundromat was garishly lit by cheap fluorescent bulbs and the droning whump of nearly drowned out his words.

"What's wrong?" Sam looked up from his book, placing a finger to hold his place.

"I just got off the phone with Bobby. He got a weird message from us last week. I didn't call Bobby last week."

"Oh?" His brother's eyes dropped again to the page, apparently having lost some interest. "Maybe you butt-dialed."

He raked his fingers through his short hair, shooting Sam a look he didn't , he searched his bag for any wrappers or receipts he might've stuffed in there. "Apparently I said 'Hey Bobby' and then it got all garbled. I know I didn't call him."

"Did you check your phone?"

"We ditched our phones after Ohio, remember? They kept acting funky."

"Mmm." Sam made a semi-interested sound, eyes flitting over the book.

It was times like these he alternatively wanted to strangle his little brother and felt bad that Sammy was even here. Sam was so goddamn smart, and here he was using that brain to read up on snake creatures in Eastern mythology in some crummy po-dunk town. "Do you remember taking down the werewolf?"

"Sure, we shot it, it fell, and then we buried it."

"The time we called was about then. Don't you think something is off?"

"Mm mm." It sounded like a 'no'. But Sam marked the spot with one finger again and raised his shaggy head to stare back at Dean. "Like what?"

Dean frowned at the opaque window where his clothes moved rhythmically in the sudsy water. "This is our first laundry stop since then, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Then why aren't my clothes muddy? I didn't take a shower that night. Digging in the middle of the night ain't exactly clean."

Sam closed his book, brow creasing in thought. "The same thing happened in San Ignacio, didn't it?"

Two weeks later they were in Bobby's kitchen, enjoying an ice cold beer. Not Sam, he was having a sparkling water. It was hard to believe they were related sometimes.

"First I had a friend check out the footage at the hospital in The Plains. Nothing unusual."

Dean did remember that, he had asked if anyone came in with strange scratches or marks they couldn't remember getting. Standard with werewolf attacks, they couldn't remember any wounds sustained in the night. It had been a big fat fail, unsurprisingly, but it was worth a try.

"I also looked into that job you seven months ago with the ghost," Bobby announced once they were settled in, holding up a tape. "Pulled some strings, got the footage copied."

He stuck the tape in the slot and pressed play, a grainy image appearing on the tv. Someone had spliced certain parts together because it went from Dean and Sam in their FBI suits walking in the entrance to speaking to the front office.

He barely noticed the people walking behind him; Bobby had to thump the glass to point out a female walking up behind them.

"So?"

"Keep watching."

Dean watched Sam and himself turn around and speak with her for a short while before Sam handed her a card. Then the screen followed her as she walked away.

"She threw away our card." Dean snorted. "Stuck up-"

" _Watch._ "

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes, though something poked at him. He met tons of people over the years and they all faded into one faceless blur, but given everything that happened.. why didn't he remember talking with her?

As a different camera picked up, the same female ducked into a staircase. Suddenly the tape fast-forwarded while trained on the door, given the date and time stamp and the bottom. It switched to a different door, also zooming from an earlier time to hours later. People came in and out of the door, which seemed to be the ground level stair door, but not the chick.

She wasn't exactly easy to mistake for someone else, with all that hair.

"What, so she stayed in the staircase?"

"She never left it, my guy searched."

Dean pursed his mouth, but he wasn't the brains, he was just the brawn. "I don't remember meeting her, do you?" He looked over at Sam's puzzled face.

A week later Dean yanked his baggage off the trolley with a growl. "This is the furthest I've ever travelled in my life. This sucks."

Sam already had his bag and a stack of London maps. "An address is more than we usually have. Do you think we can stop at-"

"NO." The last thing Dean wanted to do was see the Big Ben or the Eiffel Tower or whatever. He really just wanted some decent grub and a bed to crash in after that ridiculously uncomfortable plane ride. All this to hunt some unknown powerful thing that they were still divided on what she even was.

But it was too powerful to foist on another Hunter, plus he was determined to see this to the end. He was sure she fucked with his mind.

Three hours later they sat in a _borrowed_ car with two bags of fish and chips. Sam wanted to go eat something else, but Dean wasn't having any spotted dick or pudding made out of blood. He heard about their food. Fried fish and fries were fine.

"Aren't you going to wear your shirt?" Sam pointed to his own white shirt with some Tower on the front.

"No."

"Yours has a picture of a knight on it!" Sam held it up, a black shirt with, indeed, a picture of an old-fashioned knight and the words 'Dressed to Kill' written elegantly along the abdomen.

"No."

An hour later he was wearing the stupid shirt and following a familiar poofy-haired female down a busy street. They caught a trolley after she did, having to pick up the pace to catch up.

"Got your necklace?" Dean muttered out the side of his mouth. At least Bobby had set them up with protection specifically against witches, warning them to not break or lose it because he had to return it once they were done. And that they owed him, because the person did not want to part with the two smelly satchels.

They followed her into an alley carefully, the satchels stinking to high heaven the closer they got. He clamped a hand on Sam's arms when the bricks moved right in front of her. It came in handy because they had to break into a run before the bricks closed.

And both of them stopped immediately, gaping at the droves of strangely dressed people staring at shops and chattering.

"Dude. This is the largest coven I've ever seen in my life."

Sam didn't respond, his face slack in wonder as a woman in a pointy hat passed by with two shopping totes floating behind her.

"Stop gawking or we'll lose her." Dean continued to drag his brother behind him, flinching every time he saw a stick in someone's hand. This was positively the most dangerous mission they'd ever been on, severely outnumbered and hopelessly out of place. He just followed the top of her hair every time he saw it between people.

"What are we going to do once we catch her? They're everywhere," Sam whispered, his long legs worth nothing as he kept lagging cause he was staring at shit.

"I dunno, all I know is nobody messes with my mind." Dean said grimly, his eyes narrowed in determination.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

What.

I said I wrote this to cheer me up! XD This Meet still counts even though one party doesn't know about it, cause turnabout is fairplay, right?

They're crazy! Or I am. XD Thanks to my idea-bouncer that you have this! And the reminder that the Winchester's are very dangerous men. *fans self*

Last one tomorrow!


	5. Fifth Meet

**Fifth Meet**

Hermione was on a vacation of sorts. This time she was smart about it and just stayed at home. Flourish and Botts had called to her every day she didn't work. Hermione finally gave in and came down to Diagon Alley.

Harry had granted the time off after that miserable last assignment. Nothing could be done for her...her wand. It was an even more bitter potion to swallow than the Skele-Gro she had to take to repair the extensive damage the bullet did.

The whole experience had shaken her up. Maybe it was time to let the younger Aurors take over. Neville had become a Professor, Harry was Head Auror and handled very few field assignments, even Ron moved on. She was the only one still pushing on and on with some misguided notion that she couldn't pass on the baton.

 _When she saw what Dean had done, her eyes grew huge and both hands flew up to her mouth to muffle the cry. Her first wand, the one she bought at Ollivander's when she was eleven!_

" _Now stand up with your hands up, or you'll be breathing outta a new hole." He jerked the gun up for just a second for emphasis._

 _Hermione stood up slowly, both hands raised. She wasn't sure to scream or cry. But she held off either, eyes flickering between the two men._

 _Dean held her eye as he pulled a phone out of his pocket. He hit dial without looking and listened. "Shit, he's not answering. Great timing." He cleared his throat. "Hey Bobby, I need you to-"_

 _Channeling her hardest, she flicked her fingers at both items. The phone, but_ **not** _the gun, flew out of his fingers. Before she could try again, a bright flash of the muzzle flared before her eyes. She'd swear later she didn't even hear it go off. All she knew next was lying on the ground, her entire shoulder throbbing as if a giant punched it and her ears were ringing._

 _Tamping down a scream as broken glass shifted under her skin, she looked up into the faces that came into view above her._

 _Dean crouched beside her, the cold metal of the gun touching her temple. "Are you alone?"_

 _Her fingers trembled as she tried to reach for other arm, but even that hurt too much. The agony made her gasp as she stared at the sky._

" _Is it a whole coven? Are you brainwashing werewolves or something?" He smacked her hand down and it landed near her hip. Where her second wand was._

" _Don't...burn my wand…" She whispered, gaze travelling to the broken stick. Her heart broke all over again._

 _Dean smirked and reached for it, angling back to reach it. His fingers groped in the grass. "The stick? Thanks for the tip, sweetheart." As his eyes travelled back for a second to locate it, her fingers closed around the other wand and lifted it just in time._

Banishing thoughts of that horrid night, she retreated to the furthest stacks of the store and found a good book on the Mahō no Roji in Japan. That's where she'd go on her next vacation and eliminate the chance of ever seeing those green eyes again.

She employed a barrier around her little alcove that muffled the sound both ways. But as she curled up, someone sat across from her in a squashy chair, presumably to read as well. As long as they didn't bother her while she was reading...

"Hello, sweetheart."

Her eyes flew up at that voice, meeting those damned clear green eyes. Her mouth opened but no sound came out, utter disbelief crowding all else out.

His mouth quirked in a crooked smile.

Her hand shot down to her side and he slid that terribly familiar gun along his thigh with finger on the trigger. "Ah ah ah. Not sure what you're reachin' for, but I'm gonna guess it's bad."

Her eyes narrowed. "Who are you today? Faulkner? McBrain? Kilmister?"

He chuckled, still wearing that lopsided, attractive smile. "I like that. Sammy! Next time you're McBrain." His lips closed though they still quirked upward. His eyes flickered to the side, humour fading. "Sam?"

Sam suddenly stepped into their alcove, holding what looked to be the store's entire section on history. "What are galleons?"

Hermione spoke up. "Oh, they're-"

"No talking." Dean interrupted rather rudely, she thought. Angling his thigh slightly up, he kept the gun pointed at her. "Now, witch, what is this place? World's largest coven? Did all you freaks make deals with demons?"

She stared at him, her lips pursed.

"Well?" He shoved the gun until it pointed just past his knee. "I swear to-"

"You told her to not talk," Sam said sheepishly, still holding onto the books. He was getting a bit red faced though.

Now Dean and her were glaring at each other. "All right, so talk."

The words burst out of her angrily. "We're not freaks. I was born this way. We all were. That doesn't make us evil."

"I don't think so. You sickos make people's teeth fall out and-"

"Can I get a little help here?" Sam sweated, looking around for a table or somewhere else to set his stack. She could see why he didn't want to put it on the floor, at that height it'd take forever. He added hastily, "Sorry to interrupt your tirade."

Dean gave him a look, muscle dancing in his jaw.

"I can help." Hermione pointed at the wand she had thoughtlessly placed on her armrest. Not that she was in the habit of getting ambushed in a bloody bookstore in Diagon Alley.

He went back to glaring at her after eyeing his sweating brother and rolled his eyes. "Fine. But…" He raised the weapon and held it point-blank at her face. "If he even looks unhappy after you pick your stick, I'll blows your brains out all over this place."

Hermione licked her lips as she gingerly picked up the wand and cast a Featherweight charm on the books. And nearly shrieked when Sam flung the books up because he had been holding the full weight a second ago.

Suddenly cold metal was jammed into the side of her face as he yelled, "FIX IT!"

Sam sat sprawled in the middle of the books, holding up his hands, "Don't shoot, Dean!"

"She's whammied you!"

Hermione just hunched further down in the chair with her hands cupping the sides of her head as if to simultaneously protect herself and to block the inevitable noise. Not that she'd be hearing anything ever again if he squeezed the trigger.

"No, look." Sam picked up a pick and threw it at Dean, but it floated lazily in the air before landing on the ground with a whisper.

Dean looked at the book and her, the book and her and then nudged it with his foot. "Huh."

"I just made the books light. I have galleons too." Instead of sarcasm, her voice came out a bit trembly. She dropped placed her wand down again and looked at him with huge eyes.

He looked back at her, still hyped up but uncertain, as if he were on the verge of rethinking some of this. She could only hope so, her hands were still trembling with the drain of adrenaline.

"Dean?" Sam asked after several long moments of silence.

"Yeah?"

"The gun."

Dean looked at the firearm he still had jammed against her skull and withdrew it slowly.

Sam spoke again calmly and warily. "I think she's telling the truth."

Dean scowled, never taking his eyes off her. "What."

"Look at all these books." Before Dean could finish making a sound of disgust and rolling his eyes, Sam continued quickly, "Look at them. They have a cooking section, knitting, even a parenting section. I saw kids outside, Dean."

A hint of unease touched his face. "Changelings aren't the only things that can look like kids."

"Right, but they're not doing anything wrong out there. Just shopping. And I've been thinking, how come any of those times things don't add up we weren't hurt? The monsters were dead too. Maybe she was helping us."

"She messed with my mind." A lot of the rancor had drained out of his voice though. His gaze skimmed over Sam and came back to her.

Hermione ventured a few words. "You're not supposed to know about witches. It's the law here."

"Oh honey, I know about witches."

"Maybe just a _type_ of witch, Dean." Sam kneeled forward, placing his hand on the gun despite the flinch from his older brother. "Let's just talk to her like normal people, okay?"

Dean looked as if he was about to protest the normal people, in relation to her specifically, but didn't. "You better not be wrong." He set both hands on his knees without touching the gun.

And while Sam gathered up the books, flipping through the pages like he was surprised they hadn't become blank or hollow, Hermione explained that the wizarding society were kept secret from Muggles from the moment the Statute of Secrecy was created. And why it was created, witch burnings and all.

Sam listened while he flipped through the book she pointed at titled _Muggles, Squibs, and Secrecy_ that did a decent job covering the more recent relations between magic and the Muggle world.

Dean was a fidgeter as he listened, his knee bouncing at times, tapping his thumb against his knee as if listening to music only he could hear. He didn't put away the gun entirely until she offered to buy Sam his stack of books.

His boyish face lit up and he grinned widely at his older brother. Finally Dean stood up as well and tucked the gun away.

"All of them?! Thanks! Hermione, right?"

"Yes. Are you two really Dean and Sam?"

"Winchester." Sam nodded, ignoring the exasperated huff from Dean.

She kept her word and put down a small fortune in front of the owner once the total came out.

Sam kept up a lively stream of conversation as she led them, in Dean's words, _out of this crazy ass circus_. He didn't seem entirely sold on the idea of harmless witches, his eyes darting everywhere cautiously. But he stopped starting every time a wand was waved about.

Sam had no such qualms, he was drinking everything in with wonder. "What's Quidditch? It has brooms in that window. Do you guys fly, really? Look, familiars! Don't you guys use toad parts in your potions? Is that a wand shop, you don't make your own? I've been seeing a lot of owls. Are they familiars too? The clothes are so different. Even the old guy witches are wearing pointed hats."

"Wizards. We call the men wizards."

"Ohh. Does everyone wear robes? Some of the witches' look like old fashioned dresses, but I didn't think the men would too. Look, his robes are frilly with gold moons all over it. Don't you have a pair of boxers like that, Dean? He frowns because it's true, Hermione."

"HOLY SHIT!" Dean grabbed at his belt as if he were going for his sidearm.

Cheeks burning, Hermione grabbed his jacket sleeve and pulled him down the cobblestone path. "They're _goblins_ , Dean, they belong here." _Unlike you._ She still wasn't sure how in the world they got past the Muggle spells, but had a feeling they accomplished a lot of impossible tasks, given some of the comments Sam casually made about their experiences.

Dean threw a freaked out look over his shoulder as he let himself be dragged. "They're ugly as sin. I've seen better looking stuff in the toilet."

Hermione sucked in a deep breath and brought them around the Leaky Cauldron and stopped. "I can get you both back out without going through the tavern." Ignoring Sam's disappointed look just over the tops of his books, she continued, "You guys shouldn't be here, you know. I'm normally duty-bound to uphold the law because I'm like a bobby."

"Bobby?" Dean blinked.

"A policeman. But you two are special exemptions clearly." Sort of. They knew what witches were, but not the type of witch that cursed people and gained their powers through trickery. Would knowing about the real ones cause them to hesitate when they shouldn't?

Dean's eyes moved past her to the people milling past about three meters behind them. "I still can't believe we've never even heard of you guys. We've been doing this our whole lives." He made a considering motion. "Could come in really handy though, during hunts. You ever want to quit being a 'bobby' and become a Hunter?" His half-grin was quick and somewhat genuine. "The pay's shit, but the view's great."

She hadn't realized incorrigible might apply to Dean, but she wasn't surprised. She tapped the brick wall and stepped through the opening with them. "Those town's weren't exactly picturesque."

"I didn't mean the scenery outside." Dean winked at her.

Sam snorted from the other side of him.

Hermione smiled. Sam's comments about how certain witches in America had gotten their powers, she had to admit that was a loathsome way to go about it. There was a charming quality to Dean. Despite her broken wand. But she understood now. Plus it'd be a bit pedantic to bring up a memory he didn't have anymore.

Sam was even more reluctant to step through, he was just so eager to learn about this new world.

"Really though, knowing a good witch would be great. How fast can you travel if we need a hand?" Dean dropped the flirty smile somewhat, getting to the brass tacks of how to use magic to his advantage.

Hermione looked thoughtful. "I'll show you. I'm afraid you can't contact me by mobile though, it only works when I'm home, and barely at that."

Sam tried to balance his books against his side as he searched one pocket for his phone. He checked it and made a face, looking up at the now solid brick wall. "No service. I bet I could figure it out with research."

They shared a smile, those were her favorite words after all.

"Will both of you grab onto my arms and hold very tight?" Her nose wrinkled, what was that godawful smell? Someone must have thrown refuse in the shallow end of the alley.

Sam slipped his hand through the gap between her elbow and waist as if she were a gentleman escorting him to dinner. She smiled all the way up at him then looked at Dean. He looked her over once and grabbed the material over her forearm firmly.

She carefully brandished her wand, Dean and her staring at each other. "I don't want anything to happen to the books." She explained this time as the books shrunk in Sam's arms.

He looked at them in his palm with a huge grin before pocketing them.

"Hold tight." Hermione murmured again and they twisted and turned and squeezed into nothingness.

They held on, she'd give them that. Sam was left bent double when they landed and Dean sagged against her, both retching several times before gasping for air. "What the fuck was that?!" Dean exclaimed.

"Side-Along Apparition." She looked around the familiar settings, the little motel with no cameras in The Plain, Ohio. It reeked here too though. "I'm impressed, you know. You two are really something."

"Thanks." Dean finally was able to straighten up, blowing out a deep breath. "So, how do we get ahold of you? You're pretty kickass yourself."

Hermione twirled her wand between her fingers then held it loosely. "You can call for me, but I have to place the magic word inside you so it will work. All right?"

Dean just nodded and waited, with his pretty green eyes and crooked smile.

"Hold still," she murmured, fingers wrapping more securely around the wand as she pointed it at him.

" _Obliviate._ "

* * *

Author's Notes:

 _Fin!_

 _(The End!)_

HMJ


End file.
